Conventions
by Angel Interceptor
Summary: What is it that Oliver can see in Percy that everyone else seems to overlook? Can they break the bounds of convention? PercyOliver Slash
1. Discipline Parchments

Author's Note: These characters are the property of J.K.Rowling. There is no slash in this chapter; it is pre-emptive, it comes later. This is a slightly different exploration of Percy's character, I'm aware bits of it may seem out of character, this is a mostly a vision of Percy in private. Angel Interceptor x ~ Conventions ~

Percy grinned suddenly, his face lit up by the uncommon emotion. He was normally portrayed as not having much of a sense of humour, but he would always say that it had been a long time untapped. Oliver, slumped across the floor in front of the fireplace, opened one eye.

"I'm glad you find it funny, Weasley."

Percy stifled a laugh, as Oliver chucked a pillow across the room, missing Percy by miles.

"Not a brilliant aim for Hogwarts' best Quidditch player…" Percy taunted slyly, an eyebrow raised at his roommate.

"Shut up." Oliver grinned, lying back and enjoying the warmth of the fire.

With a quick flick of his wand, the fire exploded in a barrage of fireworks, their bright lights and stars filling the room. Percy watched the mirage with a practiced eye; "Not bad," he muttered to himself, turning back to his books and dropping his wand alongside the pile of revision notes he had personally colour co-ordinated earlier in the day.

"Stop taking the piss," Oliver muttered, and turned over onto his side. Percy had been practicing that party trick for weeks now.

It had been a long day. Oliver had disgraced himself in the Quidditch friendly match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, by managing a spectacular own goal. Percy still hadn't stopped smirking, whilst the rest of the team were managing a pretty good record of ignoring him.

"It was only a friendly match," Oliver muttered, taking a bite of his curly wurly.

"Of course it was," Percy said soothingly, hiding a smile. "What the hell are you eating?"

"A curly wurly." Oliver said shortly, throwing a bar in his general direction. "Hermione bought them for me after Easter."

"And her a dentist's daughter," Percy tutted, reading the nutritional information before taking a bite.

"I don't see you refusing it…"

Percy threw the pillow back across the room. "Shut up, you." He glanced at his watch. "Damn – I was supposed to be meeting Penny ten minutes ago."

"Why?" Oliver could hardly help it. It wasn't his fault he disliked the girl. She was so bloody… good.

"We've been through this, Ol." Percy sighed, and threw a glance towards his best friend.

"I know… I know." Oliver stuck an arm beneath his head, and picked up an aero. "Go on then, God knows what she'll do if you're fifteen minutes late."

*  
  


The meeting with Penny was rather short and stilted. Annoyed with Percy with being late, she automatically blamed it on his room-mate. "That ridiculous boy," she dismissed him far too easily for Percy's liking, seeing him as nothing more than a boy with a predilection for broomsticks. "That was a stupid and easily avoidable mistake he made earlier."

Despite the fact that that was exactly the reason Percy had been laughing at Oliver for the last couple of hours, Percy couldn't help feeling a little pissed off on Oliver's behalf. "I say, Penny, that's pretty unreasonable,"

She'd tossed her curls and shot him a tiny smile, "But true all the same."

They'd been sitting in the restricted section of the library, on the large table reserved for prefects. Despite the close proximity of the exams, the earlier Quidditch match had put many students off returning to the books afterwards, preferring to take the rest of the day off. Most of the pupils had descended upon Hogsmeade for 'revision snacks'. Oliver had ordered 36 packets of Hula Hoops from one of the cleaning staff who had a brother working in ASDA, so didn't feel the need to go. Plus the fact that he was a bit of a laughing stock.

"How's the discipline record going?" Penny asked, unrolling her parchment.

"Fairly well, I have to say," Percy opened his ageing leather briefcase and pulled out an identical parchment. "I had a slight hitch earlier in the week, when the first years discovered Fred and George's firework stash, but it died down fairly quickly." It had been pretty funny actually, Percy had to admit, but it wouldn't be seemly to recount the sight of ten tiny first years quaking in their boots on his approach. Penny was already shooting him disapproving looks.

"You really should nip that sort of behaviour in the bud," she said quietly, glancing down the parchment, "I had something similar last year, but I had a long chat with the offending students, and we haven't had any problems since."

Percy stifled a yawn, and sneaked a glance at his watch under the table.

"Have you got somewhere you would rather be, Percy?"

"No, no," he hastened to regain her approval, "Just been at the books too long today, feeling a bit like an early night is in order."

Well, he reasoned, as he wandered nonchalantly down the long corridors back to his room, he hadn't exactly lied.

"What was it this time," Oliver asked as soon as Percy opened the door, "Let's discuss the school's current stance on food in the classrooms?"

"Very funny." Percy slumped down on the sofa next to him, not revelling as he usually did in the perks of seventh year rooms, "Discipline records actually."

"Ooooh…" Oliver grinned, "Scintillating. Bet that got your pulse racing."

"Stop taking the piss." Percy thumped him playfully, and reached past him for a packet of ready salted hula hoops.

"Oi," Oliver elbowed him back, "But seriously, mate – what are you still doing with her? She bores me rigid."

"She's not going out with you though, is she?" Percy crunched his first crisp, "Yummm, it's been ages since I had hula hoops. I'd forgotten how damn good these things are,"

"Stop changing the subject," Oliver helped himself to a crisp, and leaned over, placing a friendly hand on Percy's shoulder, "You're going out with her, and she bores you rigid. Plus the fact that she isn't anything like you,"

"Everyone else thinks we're very well suited," Percy complained, guzzling down hula hoops.

"Well, maybe everybody else doesn't know you as well as I do."

"Maybe." Percy glanced towards his friend, "But who the hell would go out with me, if I wasn't with Penny?"

"Is that all you're bothered about?" Oliver shook his head, "I never thought that you were the shallow type, Perce." He stood up, tired out by the day's events, and ready for bed. "Who the hell says you need a girlfriend, anyway?"

Percy didn't look up, suddenly chilled by the way the conversation seemed to be heading. "Convention says I need a girlfriend."

"When did you feel the need to be bound by convention?" Oliver glanced down at Percy's well-ordered exam notes, his pristine application form for the ministry of magic, his exemplary results. "Oh…" he realised.

*

Percy slept badly that night, tossing and turning as the moon shone brightly through their open curtains. Across the room, Oliver didn't even get that far. He had always wondered just why he disliked the idea of Percy and Penelope so much. He wasn't too sure how things were going to turn out.


	2. Breakfast

Author's Note: Yet more revision avoidance! Just a quick piece really. Going to go and revise King Alfred now. Yes, Really, I am.  
  
Thanks to those people who have reviewed already – the first part has only been up a few hours!  
  
Disclaimer : These characters don't belong to me.  
  
  
  
Part Two:  
  
Breakfast was a bloody disaster. They walked in together, Percy perfect in his immaculate robes, no outward sign of his troubled night. Oliver, however, had woken up late, too late for a shower, and so half his hair stuck up in tufts, the other side flattened by sleep. He couldn't even ignore the slight snigger that ran through the room on his arrival, the disgruntled looks of the rest of the Gryffindor team as he and Percy sank down onto the bench.  
  
Percy elbowed him, "It was only a friendly match," he muttered, suddenly sympathetic of Oliver's plight. Percy was normally ignored, eyes passing him by with no flicker of interest. Oliver, however, was normally viewed as a bit of a hero, with legions of younger girls swooning as he wandered by. Younger boys, too, occasionally. It was amazing what a love of a good broomstick could do for your sex appeal. For a second, Percy considered attaching himself to a Nimbus 2000 and waiting for a result. That would get rid of Penny for him.  
  
"I'm a bloody laughing stock" Oliver mumbled under his breath, leaning across Percy for the milk.  
  
Percy shrugged, shooting him a sidelong grin, "So, nothing's changed then… How many weetabix are you eating?" Amazed, Percy did a quick count. "…six, seven?" His eyes widened, "Seven weetabix?"  
  
"I'm a growing boy," Oliver attempted to justify himself, whilst pouring huge quantities of sugar across his overflowing bowl.  
  
"Outwards, not upwards, judging by that…"  
  
"Shut up, I don't see your breakfast festooned by ryvitas and slim-fast!" Oliver eyed Percy's breakfast of peeled plum tomatoes on toast with a hungry eye.  
  
"I'll have you know, there are practically no calories in this meal," Percy made to look very busy with a knife and fork.  
  
"How the hell do you know that?" Oliver raised an eyebrow, trying to stifle a laugh, "Have you been reading your Mum's 'Witch Weekly' again, Perce?" he elbowed the head boy under the table, grinning at Percy's discomfort.  
  
"No…" Percy lied, "Oh… eat your breakfast, own-goal boy."  
  
At the other end of the table, Hermione's spoon was hovering over her cornflakes, "What's up with Percy?" she asked Ron quietly, nudging him so he splashed milk down his robes. "He hasn't stopped messing around with Oliver since they arrived.  
  
"Oi… God knows." Ron shot a glance across the room, "But I can guarantee that one person isn't going to be happy about it." He indicated Penelope, who was going slowly puce in the corner, her curls bouncing dangerously close to her steaming latte and croissant.  
  
*  
  
"Can I have a word please, Percy," Penelope was waiting for him outside the refectory.  
  
"You may."  
  
Oliver tried to hide a smirk as he watched Penelope colour over her grammatical slip. He was heading upstairs for a quick shower before hitting the books.  
  
"Don't be facetious, Percy, it doesn't suit you." She muttered, her blush subsiding.  
  
"I thought you appreciated a good grasp of the English language, Penny." Percy was gripped by a sudden urge to just leave her there, mouthing silently in the busy corridor. He didn't though, because Fred and George had just arrived, and were making kissing faces through the window. Percy stifled a grin as he watched Penny's colour deepen to practically purple.  
  
"Those brothers of yours," she hissed, pushing her bag into his hands, "Someone needs to take control of them." Without a backward glance she stormed through the double doors, taking them both by surprise.  
  
"Sorry Penny," they chorused, "We won't do it again."  
  
They sidled past their older brother without a hint of recognition, and made a dash for the Gryffindor common room.  
  
*  
  
"Did the witch tell you off?" Oliver was sat by the fire, wrapped in a huge blue towel with a picture of a broomstick adorned across it, a huge grin on his face.  
  
"Is there anything you own that doesn't have anything to do with Quidditch?" Shooting a glance at the towel, Percy sank down onto the sofa and lazily flicked through Oliver's well-read copy of 'Quidditch through the Ages'.  
  
"Don't change the subject."  
  
"Well, don't call my girlfriend a witch,"  
  
Oliver couldn't help but smirk. "We're at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Perce. What else am I supposed to call her?"  
  
Percy raised an eyebrow. "You wait until you get a girlfriend, Ol, and I start calling her a witch." He chucked Oliver's robe at him, "Then we'll see who's laughing. And for God's sake get dressed, boy."  
  
"I'm not going to get a girlfriend," Oliver said airily, making a move towards his wardrobe.  
  
"Not if you keep shooting own goals, anyway." Percy muttered under his breath, moving over to the desk.  
  
"I heard that."  
  
Oliver blinked hard, staring into his wardrobe without really seeing anything. Perhaps that was it. He was just destined to shoot own-goals forever. 


	3. A multitude of Broomsticks

Author's Note: Well… Chapter Three. This is a bit of a landmark chapter – I am not writing it to avoid revision! No… I don't have to revise till tomorrow. Yay!!! ( But now we're on the really interesting subjects… Do we really exist? How do we know if our friends are mutants or zombies?? Scintillating stuff. Oh well, I'll crack on with that tomorrow.  
  
Erm… Thankyou very much to those who have reviewed already.  
  
Cheers for offering to read it Kim, especially during Indiana Jones. Blame MSN though, I couldn't get through to you to give you the second draft, so you'll just have to read it here along with the rest of us. (  
  
For AS WHS B.  
  
Disclaimer : These characters don't belong to me. Please don't sue. Unless you want my overdraft and a future of student loan repayments, that is.  
  
Part Three.  
  
"I'm bored," Oliver threw his quill down onto the table, and flicked a glance towards Percy, who was making very studious-looking notes from a huge ageing textbook.  
  
"Shut up." Percy turned the page and stifled a grin.  
  
"Percy… I'm really bored,"  
  
"I'm not surprised you're bored," Percy shot his room-mate a sidelong glance, "You have been working for all of… twenty three minutes." Shrugging, he turned to glance out of the window, but not before throwing a surreptitious grin in Oliver's direction; "I can understand why that might be difficult for someone like you…"  
  
Feigning outrage, Oliver threw his cushion across the room, where it bounced off Percy's head and landed on the floor, "What do you mean by that, huh??"  
  
Percy leant over and picked the cushion up, smirking at the almost- obligatory image of a broomstick and a golden snitch as he moved over to make room for it on the chair, "Great, that should make working a bit more comfortable."  
  
"Percy…." Oliver warned, making a move towards the other boy,  
  
"Well, it is well documented that you can only concentrate when you've a broomstick between your legs…"  
  
Oliver sank back onto his chair, and laughed. "That is so not true! I can concentrate on loads of things… Hang on… what are you doing?" Percy was advancing towards him, broomstick in hand.  
  
"Stand up,"  
  
"What…?"  
  
"Stand up, or else!"  
  
"Well, don't let it be said that I can ever resist a man with a broomstick," Oliver grinned, and obeyed.  
  
*  
  
"Where are we going?" Oliver was pulling on a blue stripy jumper as he followed Percy down the stone staircase, trying to keep an eye on the narrow spiral steps as he mistook an armhole for the neck. "Bloody hell," he muttered, "Since when did jumpers become so complicated?"  
  
"Blimey, Olly, you do find life quite difficult, don't you?" Percy teased; ducking away from a right hook swung loosely in his direction. He chuckled as he slipped through the doors into the grounds with Oliver following behind, tugging his jumper down as he did so.  
  
"You never answered my question," Oliver grumbled, jogging the couple of steps it took him to catch his roommate up.  
  
"I'm taking a hard-earned break from Potions, and you're going to get rid of some that pent-up energy you're currently emitting."  
  
Oliver raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.  
  
"Oliver, we're carrying a broomstick and heading towards the Quidditch pitch – it's hardly rocket science, is it?"  
  
This time Percy wasn't quick enough to dodge Oliver's elbow.  
  
"Oi," he spluttered, coming to a dead standstill in front of Ron, Harry and Hermione, looking particularly guilty and holding a plastic bag.  
  
"What are you messing around at?" Ron asked, surreptitiously sliding his mucky hands into his pockets. Hermione pulled her robes closer around her, looking quizzically up at the head boy. "Shouldn't you be working?"  
  
"We are working, Ron." Percy unconsciously pulled himself up taller, and looked down at his younger brother. "What are you three doing out here? Haven't you got revision to be getting on with?"  
  
"We're taking a break, Percy," Harry glared defiantly up at the older boy, "Is there something wrong with that?" He and Ron still hadn't forgiven Percy for confiscating a pack of Muggle playing cards Harry had managed to procure the previous week. Fred and George were planning to do some kind of spell on them and Harry and Ron had been in for a share of the profits. Percy had come across them in the hallway discussing the financial arrangements; at which point he'd taken one look at the cards and slipped them into his pocket with an exasperated 'What would Mum say," and a shake of his head.  
  
"Run along back inside," Percy indicated the great doors with a flick of his red hair, "And don't let me catch you wasting time out here again."  
  
"They never told us why they were out here," Ron muttered sullenly, as they turned around, "I like the way it is one rule for them and another for us… what are you pushing me for?" Hermione was shushing him with repeated jabs to his side. Percy hadn't moved, a slow blush creeping up his neck  
  
"I told you, Ron, we're working," he turned around so his younger brother wasn't witness to any more of his embarrassment, wishing he could hide the broomstick. "Go back inside."  
  
"I didn't think you could take NEWTS in flying…" Ron muttered.  
  
"Shush!" Hermione poked him with the plastic bag.  
  
Percy blushed crimson, and gripped the broomstick harder.  
  
*  
  
"Why didn't you just tell them the truth?" Oliver had to run to keep up with Percy, a feat in itself considering their comparable sizes. Percy had always been the skinny, tall one, whereas Oliver was well built and muscular. Hours on the Quidditch pitch versus hours in the library; it wasn't that hard to ascertain which one should have been catching up with the other. Percy, however, was striding away like nobody's business.  
  
"What?" Percy marched on, gripping the broomstick hard.  
  
"Why didn't you just tell them you were having a break?"  
  
"I don't take breaks."  
  
Oliver raised an eyebrow, "Funny, that," he drawled, grabbing Percy's arm and dragging him to a standstill, "You're doing a pretty good impression of somebody taking a break…"  
  
"This isn't a break," Percy muttered defensively, not looking at the other boy, "This is a calculated attempt to calm you down so I can get some peace and quiet to get some work done…"  
  
"Liar." He elbowed Percy and made a grab for the broomstick.  
  
Percy shook his head and tutted, "We're not on the pitch yet, and it's against the rules to fly out here."  
  
"Whose rules…?" Oliver grinned, making another attempt at snatching the broom, "You're not suggesting we stick to the rules are you?"  
  
"Yes," Percy was holding on tightly to the broom, "I am head boy, and it wouldn't be seemly for me to be seen to be breaking rules." His voice had taken on the steely edge that had been evident when he was talking to Harry and Ron.  
  
Oliver shrugged, not in the mood to stay on the ground for any longer than was strictly necessary. He found the broomstick as integral a part of his life as others found breathing, or eating, and he longed to be in the air. "Race you to the pitch then, head boy…"  
  
With a long sigh and a gentle prayer that no one was watching, Percy set off after his roommate, his long legs clearing the distance between them easily.  
  
*  
  
The flying had been good, Oliver realised, smoothing down his mussed-up hair as they got back to their room. A real release of energy. Percy had been right as well, he felt less like climbing the walls and more like making some headway through his notes from Professor McGonigal's lessons.  
  
Percy hadn't said much. He was embarrassed by the encounter with Ron and the others, and he slipped back into his chair not much better off for his time outside. Why did he always feel so confused?  
  
"Are you comfortable there?"  
  
"Wha…?" Percy came back to reality with a bump, and made a grab for Oliver's Quidditch cushion; but it was too late, Oliver had whipped it away so quickly Percy just didn't have time to respond.  
  
"That's what comes of messing with Hogwarts' top Quidditch player," Oliver licked his finger and marked the air, "One-nil to me, I think."  
  
"Accio cushion," Percy muttered, without pausing to think. The cushion flew across the room to Percy's outstretched hand, whereupon he calmly slipped it onto his seat and sank down onto it, "That's what comes of messing with Hogwarts' top Wizard." With an unflustered air, he picked up his quill and began to write.  
  
*  
  
Across the room, Oliver couldn't bring himself to start writing. His quill hovered over the page, but Oliver was too busy scrutinising his roommate. Percy was scribbling onto the parchment, swapping quills as he colour co- ordinated his pristine notes. A small smile played on his lips as he wrote, as if remembering his small victory over Oliver. For a second, Oliver wondered why in the hell he had let him win. Percy, feeling Oliver's gaze upon him, turned to smile shyly across at his roommate, before turning back to his notes. "Ahhhhh…" Oliver breathed, realising. "That smile…" 


	4. An offer of massage

Author's Note: My exams finished this morning!!! Yay!! I've got two weeks off now, with nothing else to do but write Percy/Oliver slash. Life's kinda good sometimes.  
  
Big thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed so far, I love this reviewing lark!  
  
For AS WHS B. And to Ant and Dec. 'Cos it'll piss off Kim (Please don't hurt me that much- you've got to love their cheeky charm…)  
  
Disclaimer : These characters don't belong to me. Please don't sue. Unless you want my overdraft and a future of student loan repayments, that is.  
  
PS Please read my original writing if you've got a minute. It is slash!! (Well, one is… the other one could be. I haven't decided yet…)  
  
Part Four  
  
"What time is it?"  
  
"Five minutes after the last time you asked," Oliver tore his gaze away from his Quidditch book, 'How to make it in the Big Leagues' and grinned at his room mate, "Are you bored or something?"  
  
"Frustrated, more like," With a sigh, Percy shut his book, 'Muggles: Advanced Technology?' and dropped it onto the coffee table, "Shouldn't these kids have revision to do?" His gaze panned the common room, but he couldn't see a book anywhere.  
  
"Give them a break, Perce. It is Saturday night after all." Oliver had his feet up on the table, scruffy trainers on top of a pile of Quidditch magazines.  
  
"Hmmm." Percy was itching to tell Oliver to take his feet down off the table, but it would sound more than faintly reminiscent of his mother.  
  
"You're wanting me to take my feet down, aren't you, head boy…"  
  
"No…."  
  
Oliver raised an eyebrow, "No?" He grinned, "So you don't mind if I just left them here then? Or if I moved them around a bit, so they were resting directly on to the table top?"  
  
"Bugger off, you." Percy grinned, but couldn't drag his eyes away. "How did you know I was thinking about your shoes, anyhow?" He wished Oliver would put his feet back on the floor… who knows where those shoes had been.  
  
"Easy," Oliver shrugged, "I know you better than I know myself." For a second, his calm blue eyes met Percy's troubled grey ones, then he smiled, "Plus the fact I saw you staring at my feet with a pained look on your face."  
  
Percy couldn't help but smile, "I had a pained look?"  
  
"Yeah, the same one you have whenever you're distressed about something." Oliver turned a page, but he wasn't reading. He cleared his throat, embarrassed, and tried to concentrate again.  
  
For a second, Percy paused, a tiny smile playing on his lips. Carefully, he extricated his textbook out from under Oliver's legs, and continued to read.  
  
*  
  
"Aghhhhhh!"  
  
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Oliver grumbled, turning over in bed. Across the other side of the room, Percy had switched his light back on for the umpteenth time, and reached for his book. Oliver glanced at his watch; half one. This had been going on, on and off, for the last two hours. He growled.  
  
"I can't sleep," Percy discarded the book once more on the bedside table, and folded his arms.  
  
"Neither can I, but do you hear me moaning about it?" Oliver muttered, sitting up.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
Oliver switched on his lamp, "Nothing." Opening his drawer, he fumbled around until he came across what he was looking for. Brandishing one in his roommate's direction, he began to unwrap his own, "Do you want a Chupa Chup?"  
  
Percy blinked. "You are truly, truly bizarre, Olly." He shivered, his t- shirt no protection against the cold wind that whistled through the high gables. Summer gales. You couldn't have predicted it.  
  
"It's cola flavour…" Oliver tempted, waving the blue lolly at Percy.  
  
"No thanks," Percy tried to wrap a blanket around his thin shoulders, but he couldn't get warm, "I'm not that hungry."  
  
"Suit yourself," Oliver shrugged, and took an extra lick. "Why can't you sleep, anyway?" He pulled the blanket up, "You're normally out like a light."  
  
"I don't know…" Percy flicked a glance across the room, "I think I might be a bit worried about these exams," he admitted quietly.  
  
Oliver sat up straighter, - he'd never heard Percy complain once about the pressure of exams in the entire time he'd known him.  
  
"I'm supposed to be meeting Penny for a revision session after lunch tomorrow," Percy continued, "but I just don't know the material. She's going to be firing questions on the Goblin uprising of 1217 and I won't be able to tell her anything. I haven't got past the great Elf war of 845 yet, and…"  
  
"Shut up, Perce," Oliver said gently. "I've seen you, working away all week. Think of all the work you've put in this last year. Think of the marks you've been getting in the continuous assessment. You've already got a higher grade then the rest of us put together. You're going to blow Penny out of the water when you get into the exam room, so don't worry… Now what's up?"  
  
Percy was itching around, struggling to find a comfortable position in the bed. He looked like he hadn't listened to a word Oliver had said. "I'm all stiff – everything aches…" he moaned.  
  
Oliver sighed, bit off the last remaining bit of the chupa chup and threw the lolly stick in the direction of the rubbish bin. "Look, do you want a massage?" he asked, trying not to meet his roommate's eye, "I learnt how to do them during Quidditch training…" he blushed, and looked away.  
  
There was a long pause. "Thanks Ol," Percy said awkwardly, "but I think I'm going to try and get to sleep again."  
  
"Ok," Oliver managed, leaning over to switch off his lamp. Sinking back into the pillow, he closed his eyes in embarrassment. How humiliating. Across the room, he heard the click of Percy's lamp, and the various noises of Percy snuggling down the bed. He felt the blush rise on his face, shining like a beacon despite the pitch-darkness. Totally unbidden, an image of Percy floated in front of his face, tantalising. "Go away," he muttered.  
  
"Fine," the real Percy grinned, moving away from the bed, "I was just wondering if your offer was still open?"  
  
Oliver gave a broad smile.  
  
Percy was nervous as he took his t-shirt off. Bathed only in the tiny light from Oliver's bedside lamp, his felt like his skinny frame looked lankier than usual. In her more harassed moments, his mother had referred to him as a 'bag of bones' and how she wished he'd get some meat on his bones. He'd folded his arms so that as little skin was visible as possible.  
  
Oliver, ostensibly rooting through his sports bag for his massage bar, held back a smile. The other boy looked anxious and agitated, his fingers relentlessly tapping as he waited for his roommate to finish. Oliver wondered whether it was wrong to find someone so beautiful, who was so scared.  
  
"What are you doing?" Percy asked, his voice quiet.  
  
"Ah… found it." Oliver moved the couple of steps back to the bed, and motioned for the other boy to lie down. "It's a massage bar", he explained, sinking down next to Percy on the bed, "It'll make contact easier, and it also contains oils to enrich your skin."  
  
Gently, he rubbed the bar until his hands were slick. With a practiced air, he began to work on Percy's shoulders, feeling the tightness of the other boy's muscles.  
  
"Where did you learn this stuff?" Percy mumbled, sucking in a breath as Oliver manipulated harder.  
  
"It was Professor Flitwick's idea," Oliver murmured, struggling to concentrate on anything other than the other boy beside him, "She's been teaching us as part of our Quidditch training," he continued, changing his approach so he moved up Percy's spine, "and now we can all do it."  
  
"Even, ahhhh….. Fred and George?"  
  
"Is that a knot?" Oliver moved his fingers back a space or two, "Grit your teeth, Perce," he began to work on the knot, trying to ignore Percy's sharp intake of breath as he did so, "Yep, even Fred and George. They're quite good actually, although they do keep trying to have a go on Katie and Angelina…"  
  
"Like that's a surprise," Percy smiled languidly as Oliver continued to move down his back, "That feels good…"  
  
"Mmm," Oliver was struck with the strange feeling that he wished this time would continue forever and at the same time, finish right this second. He felt both like he was right where he belonged, and like he was breaking a confidence at the same time. Unwilling to break the contact, he began again, starting at the shoulders.  
  
"How are you feeling?" Oliver asked quietly, a few minutes later, wiping his hands on his shorts. He pulled his Chudley Cannons T-shirt down a bit, and sank down onto the bed. Percy lay beside him, his eyes closed.  
  
"Like I've just been run over by a bus…" Oliver froze, before Percy opened one eye, and grinned cheekily. "I feel wonderful," he murmured, closing the eye again.  
  
Oliver let out a long sigh of relief, suddenly relaxed. He could still feel the touch of Percy's skin beneath his fingers, its gentle response to his touch. And now he couldn't take his eyes off the indolent boy beside him.  
  
"…cold," Percy muttered, without moving.  
  
Raising an eyebrow, Oliver lent down and pulled the blankets up so they covered both of them. He was so close, he could feel Percy's warm breath on his skin. This was going to be one hell of a night, he realised, his fingers itching to graze the other boy's skin, to skim those freckles, to run through his hair. Desperate to quell the urge to touch him, he sat on his hands, closing his eyes in disbelief. The one thing he'd wished for, and it turned out to be a hellish form of temptation.  
  
"Stop wriggling, you…" Percy grinned sleepily, and shot an arm out, encompassing Oliver. "Stop moving, else I'll have to keep hold of you all night."  
  
Oliver felt his stomach disappear. Squeezing his eyes tight shut, he bit his lip. Oh dear God, no… What a bloody awful predicament. How obtuse could one boy be?  
  
Taking the bull by the horns, he moved backwards into the other boy's hug. He felt Percy freeze behind him, and Oliver felt like he was biting his lip so hard it was about to draw blood.  
  
There was a long pause, before Percy's arm snaked closer around his roommate. He felt the other boy's warm breath on his shoulder, and with a shaky intake of breath, he slipped his hand into Percy's, and breathed out. 


	5. The Trouble with Potions...

Author's Note: It's the fifth chapter! I haven't ever got this far before! Thank you to the reviewers. Right, I'm now going to eat some wotsits and watch Neighbours.  
  
PS Please read my original writing if you've got a minute. It is slash!! (Well, one is… the other one could be. I haven't decided yet…)  
  
Disclaimer : These characters don't belong to me. Please don't sue. Unless you want my overdraft and a future of student loan repayments, that is.  
  
  
  
Part Five  
  
Oliver resolutely bit his lip and wiped his eyes with a dripping sleeve. The rain had been falling in torrents ever since the tired Quidditch team had trooped out of the changing rooms and onto the pitch, and the resultant mood was definitely not an increased team spirit.  
  
"Fred! Get out of the bloody way!" Angelina howled, as she avoided hitting him by mere milliseconds and swerved downwards, swearing profusely.  
  
"I can't see because of the pissing rain!" George yelled back, equally annoyed at being mistaken for his brother.  
  
"Neither can I," Fred swooped down towards his brother, escaping a bludger hit in his direction by a hair's breadth. He was trying to hover in one place but the wind kept blowing him eastwards.  
  
"I can!" Harry was flying circles around them all, safe in the knowledge that his glasses were repelling water.  
  
"Shut up Potter," the rest of the team shouted, Fred raising a fist towards the younger boy, "Stop taking the piss!"  
  
Oliver shook his head. Soaked to the bone, water streaming down his face, his hands slippy on the broomstick below him; this was bloody ridiculous. "Right, that's it," he bellowed, coming to a halt on the ground. "Practice over." Sliding off his broomstick, he motioned towards the changing rooms. "Everybody inside."  
  
"Blimey, I'm stiff," Angelina was attempting a stretch as Oliver unlocked the changing rooms.  
  
"I'll give you a massage, sweetheart," Fred leered, grinning as he skipped away from Angelina's practiced flick of her wet cloak.  
  
"Bugger off, 'sweetheart'" She laughed, and slipped through the door to the girls changing room, Katie following closely behind.  
  
Oliver blanched, memories of the previous evening assailing his senses.  
  
"Anyone up for a bit of the Weasley magic?" George rubbed his hands together, and reached for his own massage bar. Harry shrugged and nipped into the shower.  
  
"Maybe later," he muttered, locking the cubicle door.  
  
Oliver leaned back against the wall for support. He'd caught a faint whiff of the massage bar as George had passed, and the very thought of a half naked Percy had been enough to turn his legs to jelly. This has got to stop, he told himself firmly, all the time his memory wandering back to his roommate. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his bag and ran, unwilling to spend another moment in an environment that exiled Percy so intensely.  
  
*  
  
The early-morning-Quidditch alarm had rudely awakened him in Percy's arms.  
  
"Don't go," Percy had murmured sleepily, not relinquishing his tight hold of his roommate, "You'll make the bed all cold."  
  
"Is that the only reason you're pissed off I'm leaving?" Oliver had mumbled petulantly, unwilling to leave the welcome confines of Percy's arms.  
  
"Obviously… I can't think of any other reason I'd want you to stay…" Percy snuggled closer, his chin resting on Oliver's shoulder.  
  
Oliver smiled quietly, for the first time unable to say anything at all.  
  
"Skip your practice and stay here with me," Percy mumbled, his breath warm on Oliver's neck.  
  
Shivering with anticipation, Oliver had shifted even closer, pressing his skin against Percy's. "Do you think I want to go?" he'd murmured softly, his fingers grazing the other boy's.  
  
Percy pulled away, "It's Quidditch, Olly… I rather think you'd walk through hot coals if there was a broomstick at the other side."  
  
"Am I that shallow?" Oliver had been hurt, turning to face his roommate.  
  
"No, Ol," Percy's fingers reached briefly for Oliver's, "You're that single- minded." Percy slipped out of the bed and padded across the room to the bathroom, shrugging. "May as well get dressed and make a start on working, now I'm awake…"  
  
*  
  
"Will you put some bloody clothes on, Wood, you're making me feel cold," Percy was sat at the table, papers spread neatly all around him, when Oliver wandered out of the shower after practice. Percy was making precise annotations to a long parchment on 'the medical properties of the common garden slug' whilst watching Oliver wander around their room in his blue Quidditch towel.  
  
"Don't tell me you don't like me wandering around like this…"  
  
Percy blushed, and tried to concentrate on the parchment in front of him.  
  
"I could flex my muscles for you, if that's any better, or show you my six- pack," Oliver teased, bending over slightly and contracting his stomach so the muscles showed. "Is this better?" he laughed.  
  
"Bugger off, you, I'm trying to concentrate," the blush had spread all up his face, and down his neck, "The common garden slug is particularly useful when chopped finely and fried…" he read aloud.  
  
"You're sweet when you're embarrassed," Oliver murmured, unable to take his eyes off the other boy.  
  
"Shut up, Ol." Percy tried not to look up, "I'm trying to educate you in the ways of the common garden slug! What would happen if you walked out of this room right now, and were attacked by a Bolivian Grass Newt? Would you know how to shallow fry a slug, and when to add the butter and the garlic…?"  
  
He was rewarded by Oliver's Quidditch cushion whizzing past his ear.  
  
"Was that Hogwarts' best Quidditch player in action once again?" Percy teased, raising an eyebrow and chucking the cushion back. "Mental note: must try harder next time…"  
  
The Quidditch cushion whizzed past his other ear.  
  
"Bugger." Oliver muttered as Percy dissolved into giggles, "I don't know what you're laughing at, head boy… I don't see your aim being any better."  
  
"Is that a challenge?" Percy laughed, reaching for his wand.  
  
The cushion hit Oliver full in the face.  
  
"I've still got bigger muscles than you have," Oliver muttered, red-faced, reaching for his clothes.  
  
Percy nodded, trying to hold a straight face, "And that is so important…"  
  
*  
  
"How did the revision session go?" Oliver had his feet up, and was watching a replay of the '1987 Puddlemere United versus Chudley Cannons Quidditch Cup Final' in his new 'Quidditch History PhotoStrips' Magazine, whilst eating a pot noodle.  
  
"That smells really bad, Ol," Percy edged to one end of the sofa, his nose wrinkled in distaste.  
  
"Stop avoiding the question, head boy," Oliver looked down at his pot noodle, and speared a floating pea. "…and this tastes a lot better than it looks, alright?"  
  
Percy raised an eyebrow. "I think it would have to, Ol. I'm not going to tell you what I think it looks like."  
  
"I think I can make a guess, thank you." He waved a fork in his roommate's direction. "You're still avoiding the question. Spill it, Perce, or I'll force feed you Beef and Onion Pot Noodle…"  
  
"It was fine," he shrugged, "I was right, Penny concentrated on the Goblin Uprising, then we moved onto the 16th century Boggart Crusades."  
  
"Scintillating." Oliver didn't even try and look interested. "What I really meant was, how was Penny?"  
  
Percy sighed. "As forthright as always. She thought she had the Battle of 1567 learnt, but I was able to put her right on a few things, I can tell you! Those boggarts weren't willing to give up as easily as she made out, and they certainly weren't as easily subdued…"  
  
Oliver blinked a few times, wondering quite what alternative universe Percy had sprung from.  
  
"…she wants to meet later to talk about herbology, but I told her I had other plans." Percy glanced surreptitiously at his roommate, whose fork was hovering somewhere between the pot and his mouth.  
  
"Other plans?" Oliver mumbled, dropping his fork back into the pot. Suddenly the idea of eating it seemed somehow repulsive.  
  
Percy nodded quietly. "I told her I was revising."  
  
"Oh." Oliver let out a long, disappointed breath.  
  
"In here." Percy continued, shooting a sidelong smile at his roommate, "With you."  
  
Oliver's stomach flipped over. Maybe that alternative universe wasn't so far removed from Oliver's own after all.  
  
*  
  
The evening passed in heavy silence. Oliver, for once acutely aware that the actual exams began in just two days, was struggling over his potions notes.  
  
"What the hell does that say?" he muttered in desperation, straining to read his own scrawled handwriting. In his lighter moments, Percy had compared Oliver's scrawl to that of an extremely drunk spider, but for once Oliver was wishing he had Percy's perfectly legible script.  
  
Percy looked up from his history notes, his brow creased. Oliver had become more and more agitated as the night wore on, with Percy trying to ignore the frantic flicking of his books and notes. Sighing, he moved around the table, "Powdered hoof of giraffe, it looks like," he was peering over Oliver's shoulder, "But that can't be right… no, it's powdered hoof of goat. Look –you've spelt 'goat' with two 't's."  
  
"Just because I can't spell," Oliver grumbled, suddenly desperately worried that he was going to fail miserably, "Everybody thinks I'm thick as two short planks."  
  
"Don't be bloody ridiculous," Percy sank down into the chair next to him, "You don't think that do you? You're as clever as the next person."  
  
"Except if the next person happens to be you, that is."  
  
There was a long pause. "Is that what you really think?" Percy asked quietly, not looking up. He was fiddling, his long fingers shredding a tiny scrap of paper.  
  
Oliver was staring down at his parchment. He hadn't meant to say that. Miserably, he began to flick the pages in front of him.  
  
"Well?" Percy continued to tear at the paper, "Do you compare yourself to me?"  
  
Oliver didn't reply, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him up. This was an issue he hadn't ever wanted to address.  
  
"You're not answering me, Oliver." Percy looked up, and his grey eyes glittered.  
  
"I…" Oliver gulped, "I've always compared myself to you," he muttered, trying not to look at his roommate. "But I've never been good enough to even come close."  
  
For a second, there was complete silence, neither boy looking at the other.  
  
"Is that what you really think, Ol?" Percy gazed across at Oliver, his fingers tentatively grazing the other boy's, "That you're not good enough for me?"  
  
Oliver was gazing in wonder down at their slowly intertwining fingers. "Well, I'm not, am I?" he burst out, pulling away from Percy's insistent touch, "Why on earth are you even friends with me? You're going straight into the ministry, whilst I'm going to struggle to even pass the NEWTs at this rate. The only thing I'm good at is riding a broomstick…"  
  
Percy reached once more for the other boy's hand, this time not letting him let go, "Where did all this come from?" he asked gently, slowly stroking the other boy's palm, "Why now?" With his other hand, he cupped Oliver's chin, forcing him to meet his gaze, "Why today?"  
  
Oliver felt like he was drowning; his whole being was focused on Percy's soft touch, "I… I don't know," he managed, "I'm just so scared of letting you down by failing…"  
  
"You won't ever going to let me down, Ol…" trembling, Percy squeezed the other boy's hand. He managed a nervous smile, "I mean it, you know… you won't let me down."  
  
"I don't why I'm being so stupid," Oliver tried to smile, "I'm just… I don't know…"  
  
"Lost for words?" Percy shrugged, "Well, there's got to be a first time for everything, Ol."  
  
"Shut up, Perce." Oliver smiled sideways at his roommate, not relinquishing his touch.  
  
"How about you get an early night, and I'll go through all the potions notes with you in the morning?" Percy reluctantly let go his hold, "You look exhausted."  
  
  
  
Oliver was still awake when Percy had come back from the bathroom. Pulling the blankets up around his neck, breathing in the faint essence of Percy that was left from the night before; he waited until the other boy had quietly slipped into bed and switched off the lamp.  
  
"Can I… can I come over there with you tonight?" Oliver asked, the tremble in his voice belying his fear.  
  
The pause was so long, Oliver was adamant that Percy hadn't heard him.  
  
"No… you stay where you are."  
  
Oliver shifted in the bed, barely able to contain his disappointment. For the first time in a very long while, he felt close to tears. He pulled the pillow over his head so that Percy wouldn't hear him cry.  
  
The pillow also muffled the sound of Percy padding across the floor, the sound of his nervous breathing as he slipped under Oliver's covers mumbling, "I much prefer your bed."  
  
With a stifled gasp, Oliver turned round in amazement. Percy pulled the other boy to him, slipping an arm around him as he got comfortable.  
  
"We couldn't have you getting cold, could we…?" he teased, his lips grazing Oliver's neck, "We've got a long day of potions tomorrow, Ol."  
  
And a very long night ahead of me, Oliver groaned, suddenly realising the weight of the old adage, 'There's no pleasure without pain". Sighing, he curled his arms around his roommate, resting his head on Percy's chest. He could feel him breathing beneath him, smell him, taste him even. He longed for more, but he could feel Percy's breathing steady beneath him, feel him slipping into sleep. Oliver closed his eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips. 


	6. ...is that its very boring

Author's Note: It has been months since I posted a the previous part of this, and as such its taking me a while to get back into the swing of things. Percy and Oliver are back, and they're still just as different as ever…  
  
Please read and review, tell me how you think its going!!  
  
As always, the characters don't belong to me. Etc etc.  
  
  
  
Part Six  
  
"What the hell is this?" Percy was stood in their room, hands on his hips, staring down at a growing mass of hula hoop packets, empty bottles of tizer, chupa chup sticks and empty smarties tubes.  
  
"I was hungry," Oliver was slumped on the sofa, his feet hanging over the arm, re-reading his Quidditch World Cup photo magazine for the thousandth time.  
  
"Hungry?" Percy muttered in disbelief, "Hungry?" he shook his head, and stared in amazement at his room-mate, "We only had breakfast an hour ago…" he glanced at his watch. True to his word, the watch still had some time to go till it flipped onto the 'lunchtime' slot. Now it was hovering quite nicely over 'revision'.  
  
"It was revision food," Oliver mumbled petulantly, shifting slightly so that Percy wouldn't notice the empty Haribo wrappers edging behind one of the sofa cushions, "And I'm a growing boy." He closed his eyes, feigning sleep.  
  
Percy narrowed his eyebrows. "I've said it before and I'll say it again, the only growing you're doing, my boy, is outwards." Percy was itching not to lean over and remove Oliver's dirty trainers from where they rested on the edge of the sofa.  
  
"I can see you, you know," Oliver opened one eye, and stared straight at the other boy, "you're desperate for me to take my feet down." He smiled slightly, "Tough luck; this is a revision break and I need my beauty sleep."  
  
"You spend more time taking breaks than you do actually revising," Percy edged his way around the huge amassed pile of junk food and sank down behind the desk, pulling out a variety of quills from his briefcase.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Oliver pulled his quidditch cushion down over his eyes so it blocked out the light. He hadn't had a good night's sleep in what seemed like forever, and he quite fancied a snooze.  
  
Or at least the pretence of a snooze.  
  
*  
  
Oliver was bored. Short bursts of enthusiasm had been plaguing him for the whole afternoon, marring his preferred stance of abject laziness, where he could quite happily while away the hours eating rubbish and watching Percy.  
  
"Stop staring at me, you lazy arse," Percy mumbled, without looking up. He was half way through a logical transitivity formula, and his working out stretched almost 12 inches down the parchment already.  
  
Oliver coloured slightly, "How did you know I was watching you?" he muttered, his eyes flicking once more down to the colour co-ordinated notes he had borrowed from Percy earlier.  
  
Percy glanced across at his room mate, a small smile playing on his lips, "You'd stopped writing, you idiot. Quills aren't exactly quiet, boy genius," He reached across the table to steal one of the golden syrup cake bars that littered the desk, and in doing so, his hand grazed the other boy's.  
  
Oliver stilled. Neither boy flinched away from the touch.  
  
Without letting his gaze meet Percy's, Oliver slowly let his thumb graze Percy's hand. His fingers skimmed the other boy's palm, his hand slowly intertwining with its partner.  
  
"Thank you for this," Oliver spoke indistinctly, his voice thick. He couldn't tell which fingers were his and which were Percy's.  
  
"Thanks for what?" Percy murmured, suddenly feeling quite unsure of what it was he was supposed to have done. His whole body seemed concentrated on one thing; the gentle touch of Oliver's hand in his. Every nerve ending was on edge.  
  
"For this… for giving up today to help me." Without being sought, his other hand had moved to Percy's face, slowly cupping the other boy's pale freckled cheek. "I know how easy you find this stuff."  
  
"And I know how boring you find it," Suddenly it was a struggle to talk. Percy moved into Oliver's touch, and for the first time, let his eyes meet Oliver's.  
  
Suddenly gentle, Oliver smiled. "I don't find it boring when I'm with you,"  
  
Percy blushed, tearing his eyes away. "Stop with the bloody clichés why don't you…"  
  
"You know you love it really," Oliver grinned, and forced himself to pull away from Percy. They were friends, he told himself fiercely. Friends. And nothing more. "We'd better go down for dinner." He mumbled, catching his breath. Without a backward glance, he headed for the door, leaving Percy to follow. As always. 


	7. The Potions Exam

Part Seven.  
  
The Potions exam hadn't gone as badly as he'd thought it was going to, Oliver reflected as he soared over the spires of Hogwarts early that evening. The written exam that morning had been ok; Oliver had spent the duration hurriedly jotting vague answers with a shaking quill. Percy had shot him a reassuring smile as Snape had handed the papers out, and even as he wrote, he could see Percy across the room, briskly scribbling page after page of essay answers. Contrary to popular opinion, even the individual practical exam that had followed hadn't been as big a nightmare as had been predicted. Because Wood directly followed Weasley in the alphabet, Percy had risked trouble by slipping over to wish Oliver luck as he'd left the exam room. For a couple of hurried seconds as Snape finished setting up, they'd stared at each other, before Percy had whispered 'Good Luck' and slipped around the corner out of sight. Oliver hadn't found the potion too difficult to prepare, but Snape had hovered over him, a small sneer playing on his face until Oliver accidentally shredded his grassroots and dragon toe-nail shavings in exasperation. Snape had then written something on the parchment in front of him, his face for once gleeful. However, Oliver let out a deep breath, the potion had managed to shrink the rabid guinea pig to the size of a small mouse, and the boils had definitely disappeared, so it had been successful. Not something you see every day, Oliver grinned as he swooped and dived by the Gryffindor tower, Oliver Wood confidently leaving an exam room secure in the knowledge that he'd passed.  
  
* Percy had waited outside for him, jumping at every little creak as he imagined god-knows-what going on inside the dungeon. What if Oliver messed up? It didn't bear thinking about, and Percy resolutely shook his head - that wasn't going to happen. Oliver knew enough to pass - he'd made sure of that the previous night after dinner, as they'd gone over and over their notes. But Oliver had got more and more nervous as the night had progressed, until finally Percy had called a reluctant halt on proceedings before his roommate self-destructed. He'd then had to endure three quarters of an hour of Oliver explaining the ins-and-outs of hypothetical Quidditch moves using balls of socks as players, making them float above the table. It had taken all of Percy's remaining energy just to stay awake at the start, but buoyed up by Oliver's infectious enthusiasm, by the end of the demonstration, Percy had to grudgingly admit to himself that he'd listened to every word, and had generated almost enough enthusiasm to pick up a broom for the first time in a very long while. They'd both been relaxed enough to sleep easily after that, but Percy had woken early to the sound of Oliver padding backwards and forwards to the toilet. Nervously, he flicked a glance at the dungeon door, hoping above anything that Oliver would do ok.  
  
"Staring at the door won't make it open any quicker, you know."  
  
"Wha.?" Percy found himself staring up at Professor Dumbledore, resplendent in a long purple gown with orange moons at the cuffs and hem. Percy grinned briefly, nervously readjusting his robes. He'd splashed a little of the potion on his sleeve, he realised, as Dumbledore sank onto the bench next to him. "No. its not that. I've already done my exam, Professor." he shut up, realising it made no sense, him sitting in an empty corridor waiting for nothing. He went back to closely examining his own cuffs, willing Oliver to hurry up.  
  
"I know, Percy." Dumbledore smiled down at his head boy, and his eyes twinkled. "I have great faith in Oliver, and I know he's a lot more intelligent than people give him credit for."  
  
Percy's head shot up, and he found himself staring into deep blue eyes. He blushed, wondering just how much the Professor really knew. "I know.I've been helping him."  
  
"Oliver seems to be universally underestimated academically," Dumbledore went on, seeming to ignore Percy's comment, "and there aren't that many people willing to see past his Quidditch accomplishments."  
  
Percy blinked furiously, and wondered how it was that the Professor could see what everyone else glossed over and ignored. He glanced back towards the potions classroom.  
  
Dumbledore got to his feet with a little difficulty, and lent against the wall for a moment, "Damned bludger," he muttered, rubbing his knee awkwardly, "That's the last time I referee a staff Quidditch match." For a second, his hand rested lightly on Percy's shoulder, before he set off down the corridor, leaving Percy to wonder exactly what had just occurred.  
  
* Percy was sat on the grass by the lake, lazily watching Oliver dive and swoop through the air above him. The early evening sun was casting long shadows across the grounds, and Percy was beginning to wonder exactly how long Oliver could stay in the air without getting bored. He fought the urge to glance at his watch; this was only the first exam after all. There was still a long way to go.  
  
Oliver landed next to him with a small thud. Tumbling off his broomstick, he lay, a huge grin on his face and slightly out of breath, on the grass next to the other boy.  
  
"Feeling better?" Percy asked wryly, plucking a piece of grass and twirling it between his fingers.  
  
"What do you think?" Oliver raised himself up onto one elbow so he was facing his roommate, "I never have to do potions again!"  
  
"I didn't think of it like that," Percy admitted, with a sidelong glance at the boy lying next to him.  
  
"Surprise, surprise," Oliver aimed a light kick at Percy's shin, "Knowing you, you were probably sad to see it go."  
  
"I resent that remark,"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Oliver dodged a playful thump from the other boy, "And don't you dare try and pretend that you weren't watching me up there, thinking that we should be getting back because we're wasting precious revision time."  
  
Percy suddenly busied himself in watching the sun sink slowly in the sky across the lake.  
  
"You were! You really were!"  
  
"Shut up, Broomstick Boy."  
  
"Revision? On an gorgeous evening like this?" Oliver shook his head in mock disbelief. "I despair of you sometimes, head boy."  
  
"What is so special about an evening like this?" The confusion clear in his voice, Percy shot a quizzical glance at the other boy.  
  
Oliver sighed. "Considering how clever you are, Perce, there's a whole part of you that is as thick as two short planks."  
  
There was a long pause. Percy got to his feet and wandered the few paces to the water's edge.  
  
Oliver bit his lip, "Percy."  
  
"No-one has ever called me stupid before," he admitted without turning round, "I suppose I'm just savouring the moment."  
  
He couldn't help but laugh. There were only a limited number of people in this world who relished having their intelligence insulted. Percy slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and turned round, a smile playing on his lips. Stood, nonchalantly by the water's edge, Oliver wondered how it came to pass that this tall, gangly, freckled, red-haired boy came to symbolise everything that was important in the world to him.  
  
"This is a turn-up for the books, surely?" Percy grinned cheekily, "Oliver Wood, great Quidditch Captain of our time, without a word to say for himself? This is surely a sight I never expected to see." he tailed off, suddenly equally lost for words.  
  
They stared at each in silence for a long moment.  
  
Biting his lip, Percy stuck his hand out, "Come on, Broomstick boy. Come tell me what I'm missing about this glorious evening." The slight quaver in his voice belied his nervousness.  
  
The sun was setting, the sky a tumultuous blur of reds and pinks. For a second, Oliver glanced across the horizon, before he reached for Percy's hand to help pull him up.  
  
"I suppose you'd better bring the broom as well," Percy conceded, without letting go of Oliver's hand as the other boy bent to pick it up. "I've developed a strange partiality for the broomstick in the last few weeks," he murmured, as the two boys slowly wandered off around the lake's edge, hand in hand. 


	8. Trying to Work

Author's note: I've finally got round to writing something that wasn't a book order. It's been a while since I've been in the mood to write anything, but last night I got inspiration, and this is the result. I don't quite know whether there's going to be any more of this. I'm not sure whether I've reached the end of the road with it or not. Hmmmm. Watch this space.  
  
As always, please leave feedback - I love to hear what people think. If you do want to flame please be aware that I don't pay heed to anyone who isn't brave enough to leave a name and email.  
  
  
  
Part Eight.  
  
"I thought you couldn't wait to get back in here and start working again, Mr I'm-too-busy-to-take-a-break-and-watch-my-roommate-practice." Oliver threw his muddy, damp Quidditch robes over the back of the sofa and raised an eyebrow.  
  
Percy, who had been guiltily devouring a mars bar whilst peering out of the window to see if he could spot any stray Quidditch players from the privacy of his own room, blushed. "I was just taking a break." he mumbled, wiping stray chocolate away with a flick of his handkerchief. Hastily, he took his place back at the table, and attempted to look busy, surrounded by History of Magic notes and seven different coloured pots of ink and quills.  
  
"This from the boy who doesn't take breaks." Oliver grinned, and picked up his towel from where he'd deposited it that morning, on the floor by his bed. He'd seen Percy eyeing it with a certain distaste as they'd left for breakfast, and just to see that cute muscle in his room mate's cheek flex in irritation, he'd given it a kick for good measure. "I must be having a good influence on you," he murmured, leaning over the table and brushing away a bit of chocolate from Percy's cheek with a gentle sweep of his thumb, "I bet if I were to open your wardrobe right this instant, I might find that your clothes are no longer organised by type and colour. and, shock horror.there might be a shirt in amongst the trousers!"  
  
"Stop taking the piss, Quidditch boy." Percy could still feel the imprint of Oliver's thumb on his cheek, and the memory was doing all sorts of strange, jumpy things to his insides. "No one is important enough to cause my wardrobe organisation to fall into disrepair." He managed to keep a straight face for a moment, before grinning, "Now bugger off, smelly, before I have to accuse you of disrupting my important study time."  
  
"I am not smelly." Oliver mumbled petulantly, "I smell lovely."  
  
Percy didn't look up from his notes. "Yeah, like roses in the summertime."  
  
"Now who's taking the piss?"  
  
"Get out, before I have to kill you."  
  
"You wouldn't dare." Oliver stuck his tongue out at the head boy, who was valiantly attempting to hide his laughter.  
  
"Watch me."  
  
Oliver skipped out the room, avoiding a barrage of flying bananas - all of which disappeared upon contact with the bedroom wall - as he did so.  
  
  
  
As he heard the bedroom door shut behind the other boy, Percy couldn't help but let his own fingers graze the skin where Oliver had been, and wondered if life could always be this good.  
  
*  
  
"Agh!" Oliver took one last look at the scroll in front of him before scrunching it up and throwing it across the room. It hit the window and exploded in a storm of fireworks, before sliding down the wall and joining the remains of Oliver's other notes that had met the same fate during the evening.  
  
Percy raised an eyebrow, and glanced down at the charred remains of Oliver's History of Magic notes, "I hope they weren't too important, Ol." He remarked, also hoping they wouldn't leave a mark on the carpet.  
  
"Shut up Perce." Oliver shut his book with a bang, and stormed across the room to his bed.  
  
For a moment, Percy watched as Oliver screamed into his pillow, before making the momentous decision to wander across the room to see what was wrong with his roommate. Perching awkwardly on the end of the bed, he patted Oliver's leg. "What's wrong?" he mumbled, "Are you alright?"  
  
Oliver manoeuvred round so he was sitting on the bed, knees pulled up to his chin. "No."  
  
Percy smiled. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong then?"  
  
"I can't do it." he bit his lip, and refused to meet the other boy's eye. "It doesn't matter how hard I try, I can't remember any of this shit."  
  
Percy tried not to smile, remembering what Dumbledore had said about everyone overlooking Oliver's intelligence. It looked like Oliver himself was guilty of the same crime as everyone else. "Why do you think that?" Softly, he let his hand rest on Oliver's knee. "You passed potions, didn't you?"  
  
"With your help." Oliver murmured. "And anyway, its not like we know for certain. results aren't out for ages yet."  
  
"Well. I'll help you again. If that's what you want." His thumb was gently stroking Oliver's knee, feeling the soft skin beneath the tracksuit bottoms. Oliver always slung on comfy clothes after Quidditch practice, whilst Percy always felt self conscious in anything so casual, and was guardedly envious of the other boy's insouciance.  
  
"Sometimes. do you know what I wish?" Oliver's hand pressed lightly against the other boy's.  
  
Percy shook his head wordlessly, concentrating on Oliver's tender touch.  
  
"Sometimes I wish that I was clever enough to do things on my own. That I wasn't some kind of loser who had to rely on his." Oliver struggled with the terminology, "best friend to get him through his exams."  
  
"Sometimes I wish," Percy broke in, "that I was good enough to fly on my broomstick and not fall off. But I'm not. I fall off every time I get on the bloody thing." He let his eyes meet Percy's, and for a second, he was lost. "We all have our crosses to bear." Oliver tried to interrupt, but Percy held up his hand for silence, in his best head boy manner, "But it isn't the same for you, Olly. You can pass these exams - with or without my help." He smiled, gently, and took Oliver's hands in his. He felt their weight, the calluses from too many hours on a broom, the slight tremor as Oliver struggled to keep a hold on his emotions, "You just need my reassurance, because you don't think highly enough of yourself."  
  
"Shut up." Oliver mumbled, trying to pull away.  
  
Percy had an amazingly strong grip when he tried. ".Because you don't think you're worth it," He repeated, "You don't think you're clever enough to pass these damn exams. You bloody are. You can pass them. And. do you know what?" he let go of Oliver's hands, and moved a little closer to the other boy. With a gentle, trembling hand, he cupped Oliver's cheek, his thumb grazing the weather-beaten skin. He had the lightest grazing of stubble, and Percy fought the urge to just keep on stroking. "You know what?" he continued, "What the fuck does it matter anyway? Because I know just what sort of a person you are." The skin quavered beneath his touch; the other boy's eyes filling with tears. "You're the sort of person I respect, the sort of person I wish I could be. You're strong, you're kind, you're good looking, you're clever, you look fantastic on a broom,,," Percy took a deep breath, confused as to who was trembling most, "and I'd still love you, regardless of how you do."  
  
"What did you just say?" Oliver grabbed Percy's wrist, stilling his touch  
  
Percy reddened, and looked away. "I said. I love you." His voice was low, no more than a murmur.  
  
"Oh. That's what I thought you said."  
  
"I'm sorry." Percy pulled away, and stood up, his legs shaking. "I shouldn't have said anything."  
  
Oliver didn't say anything, a tear escaping and sliding down his face. He watched as Percy stumbled away, his face pale and white beneath the freckles. He watched as Percy lent over the table, heard him taking deep breaths. He watched, stony faced, as Percy made his faltering way to the door. All the time unable to say a bloody word in case he cried all over the place and ruined his hard man reputation.  
  
"I'm sorry," Percy mumbled once again, faltering as he got to the door.  
  
"Perce." Oliver croaked, his voice finally springing into action, "Percy."  
  
The hand on the door-knob stilled. A pale, freckled face turned to face him, hope etched across it. "What?"  
  
"Why don't you get your arse over here, and finish what you started, head- boy." He met Percy's eyes; hope springing a-plenty. The quaver in his voice belied his inner nervousness, and for the long pause that succeeded, Oliver wondered if he hadn't just buggered everything up.  
  
That muscle was going in Percy's cheek. The one Oliver loved. The one Oliver did everything he could to bring into action whenever possible. This time though, Oliver could have done without the added pressure.  
  
"You're the quidditch player in this room." Percy murmured, biting his lip in anticipation, "You can mark me for a change."  
  
Oliver didn't need telling twice.  
  
"I love you." Percy whispered again, growing bolder by the second. Oliver stood opposite him, fists clenching and unclenching in nervousness.  
  
With a halting, shaking hand, Oliver cupped Percy's cheek, his thumb grazing freckle after freckle. His eyes were wide in wonderment as Percy nuzzled his cheek. "Do you know what, head boy?" he murmured, his hand skimming Percy's ear and neck. He took a step closer, and could feel Percy's breath on his cheek.  
  
"What." Percy's voice shook as he felt Oliver's touch on his neck, slowly inching him closer.  
  
Oliver's arm slid around Percy's waist, pulling him close. For a second, he stared into Percy's eyes, amazed at what he read there. "I love you," Oliver breathed, his lips grazing the other boy's, tantalising. "I love you." He pressed his lips against Percy's, dry skin against dry skin. His tongue coerced an entrance into Percy's willing mouth, and he felt Percy's arms encircle him, the other boy's hands touching, stroking. his back, his neck, his hair. Oliver couldn't help but smile against the other boy; he'd always known it would be like this.  
  
They didn't let go of each other, even as they moved across the room and onto the sofa. "You do realise, don't you," Oliver murmured, as his hands slipped under Percy's shirt, his hands stroking the soft skin, smiling as he kissed the other boy's neck, "that I'm only doing this because I need to get a good mark in my exam tomorrow."  
  
Percy raised his head from where he was nuzzling his room mate's ear, "I know." he murmured, grinning, "Just like I'm only doing this because I've always wanted to be in with the popular guys."  
  
Oliver pressed his lips to Percy's, "and it's absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I'm completely in love with you."  
  
"No," Percy shook his head, his hands finding the ripple of muscles under Oliver's shirt, wetting his lips slightly before ducking his head to meet the other boy's, ".absolutely nothing to do with that."  
  
"I love you."  
  
"I know."  
  
* Percy snuggled down so that his head was resting on Oliver's shoulder, Oliver kissing the top of his head. His hands slipped under the other boy's t-shirt, slowly stroking the warm, muscular chest.  
  
"When was the last time you shaved?" Oliver asked ruefully, massaging his chin.  
  
Percy raised an eyebrow, hiding a grin, "Was I just too much man for you?"  
  
Oliver spluttered, "You'll never be too much man for me, head boy." He was pleased to see a blush spreading down the other boy's neck, and before he could help himself, he was peering down Percy's top, his curiosity having got the better of him. "Just seeing how far the blush spread, love." He explained, dropping a kiss on Percy's shoulder.  
  
"Bugger off, you."  
  
"Gladly." Oliver shrugged, his lips touching Percy's. "After all, there is revision to be done, which is the only reason I'm kissing you now."  
  
"And after the exams are finished?" Percy breathed, his fingers in Oliver's hair.  
  
"I'm going to have to help you learn to fly. Its going to take long hours of arduous practice."  
  
"Long hours?"  
  
Oliver bit gently on Percy's lower lip, "Long, long hours," he repeated, hearing the boy groan beneath him.  
  
"I'm sure I can cope," Percy mumbled, his lips meeting Oliver's, his fingers grazing and skimming the other boy's skin.  
  
For a second, there was silence. Percy was slowly stroking Oliver's face, staring into his eyes, a small smile playing on his face. "Joking aside," he murmured, pressing his lips to Oliver's forehead, "I do love you, you know."  
  
"I know. Me too."  
  
* Outside their window, the sun was setting, the sky a tumultuous haze of reds and pinks. Shepherds delight. 


End file.
